Leaving Olive
by Kadyn
Summary: Peter leaves after finding out he's from the other universe.  Takes place immediately after Olivia has told Walter he is gone; she has looked for him everywhere; except her house, Smut promptly follows!
1. Chapter 1

Fanfiction Prompt: Peter leaves after finding out he's from the other universe. Takes place immediately after Olivia has told Walter he is gone; she has looked for him everywhere; except her house; when she returns there and breaks down, Peter is there to witness her moment of weakness and drabble ensues.

Disclaimer: I don't own them but if I ever win the lottery I might by the rights to Peter at least!

Leaving Olive

She didn't know how she made it home; the whole drive had been a blur of muted colors and sounds. The icy grip of fear in the pit of her stomach and the lump in her throat that she refused to acknowledge making her breath hitch uncontrollably every few minutes.

She would keep it together.

She had to.

Peter was gone.

The utter desperation and panic on Walter's face when she'd told him his son had left the hospital alone, checked himself out against the doctors wishes and fled was more then she could bare.

She'd felt those same emotions when she'd gone to the hospital and entered Peter's room only to find it empty.

Instantly she'd known, though she tried in vain to clamp down on the panic she felt, her heart hammering in her chest like she was running a marathon instead of trying to calmly ask the nurse if Peter Bishop had been moved to another room.

Of course he hadn't.

He left.

He had every right to be angry, to need some time to think things through, to process and accept; but leaving in the dead of night with no warning did not have the air of someone working through things.

It had the air of the Old Peter Bishop.

Run.

Hide.

Avoid.

Wallow in the loathing, and blame for a childhood he once thought was lost between his depressive mother and eccentric father; a childhood that was in fact Stolen away from what could have been a normal life, by the very man he'd just started to accept as a father he could love, and try to accept.

The anger that had rolled off of him like ocean waves when a storm is coming to shore, churning and threatening of violence, in the first few months of their partnership while he'd struggled to deal with his estranged father , and his eccentricities.

Those thickly churning waves had rocked her equilibrium on more than one occasion, certain that things were moments away from boiling over into destruction and the end of everything she was struggling to hold onto.

That same storm had permeated the room in the Hospital, soaked into the walls, and her skin, filled her senses burning the back of her throat and insides like acid. But now it was not a storm threatening a coast it had yet to reach; it was the culmination of a storm coming full circle to ravage and maim and destroy.

She'd felt it, right down to her bones, along every inch of skin, clenched in every fiber of her being ready to spring, to ripe and tear.

Whether that was some side effect of the cortexiphan, or simply imagined emotion, a product of the empathy she always seemed to feel for Peter, whatever his plight was at that moment - Olivia couldn't tell. Whichever it was, hardly mattered.

That intense anger that burned along her bones and bubbled in the back of her mind like someone holding their hand to a flame, was not a 'cool down' kind of absence.

The permanent feel of that empty room struck her like a slap in the face, another reminder that this was goodbye without the courtesy of a warning.

A warning she'd desperately needed.

Though Olivia was certain even if she'd had months of warning she would still be standing here feeling lost, alone and abandoned without direction or hope.

He hadn't bothered to call her to say he was checking out; which could only mean he blamed her too. He knew she had figured it out; and hadn't told him.

Fuck you, Walter Bishop.

And Fuck you Too Dunham.

Olivia's mind reeled with the memories of trying to talk Walter into telling Peter he was from the other side, then trying to talk Walter out of it; Fear that he would react badly churning her stomach. Knowing that his knowledge of what really happened as a child could result in only one thing.

Nina Sharp's knowing look when she'd smugly announced she knew what Olivia really wanted, and she'd had no choice but to humbly accept the truth; running from the office with her tail all but tucked between her legs in admitted defeat.

She couldn't function without Peter.

She couldn't afford to lose Peter.

She couldn't Live without Peter.

She Needed Him.

Olivia's breath caught in her chest, seeming unable to perform the simple function of passing in and out, it was like trying to breathe with wet socks stuffed into her lungs; like trying to pull air from water, her muscles spasmed and rebelled unable to find relief, needing to heave in great volumes of air and choke them back out again, unable to find a normal rhythm, unable to find the control she normally maintained without conscious thought or effort. Her world was falling apart; it seemed her body's ability to function was going with it.

Someone had crammed a bowling ball into her throat and air simply refused to pass by it normally, wheezing and hiccupping Olivia fought for every breath, clawed and scrapped her way toward composure, keeping a death grip on her nerves.

She had to keep it together.

Sniffing and trying to draw in a deep breath only seemed to make breathing harder.

Just hurry up and get inside.

Olivia pulled their black SUV into her parking space, how many times had she sat with Peter in this thing, discussed cases, and movies, and the crappy songs on the radio, laughed and teased.

Olivia fled from the vehicle like it was on fire. Slamming the door without locking it and flying towards the safety of her locked apartment.

She couldn't do this.

Not here, not where someone might possibly see her.

Olivia raced across the parking lot making it to her door in record time, she found her key despite her vision blurring on her, and hurried inside shutting the door, and the world out of her grief.

Head bowed against the hard wood Olivia felt the first real sob in the back of her chest, felt it bubble up uncontrollably to overwhelm the bowling ball in her throat to roar past her tightly clenched teeth. She felt her entire body convulse with each wailing sob, bringing her hands to cover her mouth did nothing to ebb the flow of anger, and fear and abandonment that sprung from every corner of her being.

Like a wild animal her torrent of emotions had overwhelmed her careful composure and would not stop now until she was too tired and numb to cry any longer.

This was it, this was what she'd been afraid of since she'd first realized what Peter was becoming to her, he was her lifeline, her touchstone, her grounding rod, her confidant and friend, more than that.

Olivia was aware that in the beginning she'd unwittingly tried to distance herself from Peter in the wake of the disaster with her partner John. She'd pushed him away and tried to keep him at bay with her pressed lips and prickly demeanor and he'd seemed amused by her antics and endeavored to throw her off balance, and charm her nearly to tears of frustration.

As a result instead she'd found herself transferring her emotions jumbled with turmoil and confusion and guilt onto Peter.

She'd used him as an anchor to keep herself grounded and centered, to help maintain her focus in the here and now. It had been Peter who'd called her back so many times when she was so close in those first few cases to following John where she could not go, Peter who had helped her maintain her sanity and a sense of who she was, when she wasn't really sure herself.

And overtime she'd come to realize that Peter not only warranted those feelings and emotions of trust and acceptance and warmth she'd transposed over their partnership unwittingly, he inspired them and returned them.

And now, just like John he was gone. And just like with John it was her own damn fault, she'd failed him, like she'd Failed to help John to realize what was happening in his life, to save him.

She'd failed to bridge the gap with Peter, failed to ground him the way he had grounded her.

She'd re-built her fragile glass house around Peter Bishop with his permission and had failed to invite him into it. And now, he'd left smashing the walls on his way out with a sledgehammer.

Olivia felt her legs give and let herself slump to the floor no longer even trying to stop the wails that left her body, she was lost. She was broken, and alone; and this time there would be no white knight to fix her.

She'd accidently slain him while aiming for the dragon.

Like Don Quote she'd destroyed her whole world following the ravings of a lunatic.

And now here she was left waiving her cardboard sword at paper windmills while the hero exits stage left, never to be seen again.

Next Part is Peters POV and Smut! Should be up by next weekend! Thanks for Reading and Feedback if you like it! ;)


	2. Chapter 2

Leaving Olive

Disclaimer: I don't own Olivia I think she belongs to Peter, and since it's only fair I guess I'd have to say that Peter belongs to Olivia…though maybe she'd let me borrow him once in a while? : 3

Chapter Two – Peter's POV

Peter watched her fall to the ground; body curled in on itself protectively as great wracking sobs ravaged her tiny frame. The woman he'd always believed to be tough as nails, unbendable and un-wielding, incapable of fault or failure.

She was failing apart before his very eyes.

Shattering into a million tiny pieces.

Could this really be the Dunham he'd watched so many times, unwavering and steadfast. Closed off and untouched by even the most gut wrenching of cases.

No that wasn't true, Peter amended.

Not untouched, Olivia Dunham was not frozen and unfeeling.

Just the opposite in fact.

Olivia Dunham cared to the point that her walls became necessary to function in the world they lived in.

Each Case, each hurt and wrong she saw she took in like kindling; fueling the fire of purpose that controlled and consumed her life. Burning hotter and brighter like a blue beacon on a stormy sea, so many times Peter had been captivated by that light; drawn like a moth to a flame by the conviction in her eyes; the belief that she would stop whatever evil it was that they were pursuing, that she would slay the dragon and save the world once again.

Olivia absorbed and transposed everything they encountered taking it on as her own personal crusade, battling against other's demons with the fervor people hardly dedicated to their own lives let alone a complete strangers.

Olivia Dunham was at odds with the world's injustices for everyone she came across, except it seemed when it came to him.

Peter had thought Olivia's shield of protection, her sense of duty had passed him by when she'd learned of his true identity.

Hurt and feeling abandoned Peter had wondered why he had not been worthy of her relentless sense of justice, she'd known and she had withheld the information from him, he knew it, could see it in her eyes when he woke in the hospital.

Why had she hurt him the way Walter did? Let him down the way that everyone in this world seemed to. Was he so imperfect so undeserving of the justice Olivia sought for all others?

Maybe this was his justice, seeing her like this, not crumpled and ruined on the floor as she was now but like THIS.

Raw, Alive, unable to separate herself any longer from the world and all its demons and hurt.

Proof that Olivia Dunham DID react to him not just as a partner and a consultant but as a friend, a companion and someone she had failed to protect.

Peter Bishop did matter to Olivia Dunham; or the woman he saw breaking before him could not exist.

This was Olivia, not the agent not the pragmatic partner but the woman, the very essence that she was centered around; this raw uncontrolled reaction that she tried to shut out from the world was the woman he wanted to know, desperately needed to see, to touch to know that she was real, and not some two dimensional character in a play; un-changed by her surroundings and feelings.

Almost soundless in his soft soled boots Peter approached her, not that Olivia could have heard him through her tears. Never before had Peter imagined her like this; it broke his heart; and at the same time in some ways helped to mend it. To know that he was not alone with his emotions; that she felt them as keenly and acutely as he did.

Peter bishop had felt abandoned, and Alone, not only that Betrayed and lost when he'd realized waking in the hospital what he had only started to grasp on the bridge…he was not of this world; and Olivia had known. He remembered the bitter pain, like his heart was being pulled from his chest, as he tried to come to terms with her lies.

Which was ridiculous really; Olivia Dunham has sworn no oath to him.

She had made no promise to uphold the truth and to include him in everything she discovered.

Many things in fact she did keep to herself, her dreams and nightmares, the things that made her look tired in those early morning meetings the things that tortured and followed her even in sleep.

No, Olivia Dunham had not promised anything to Peter Bishop.

But He had sworn an oath to her, to protect and follow her, to love her in any way that she would let him, until he could finally break through to her, to Olivia herself, not the Agent, not the Badge, to the woman who smiled at him for brief moments over coffee and who laughed at his stupid jokes.

The woman who was proving to him right now that he had touched her; more than he'd realized. That he had succeeded in deeply entrenching himself into her heart, and now without him she was falling apart.

Soundlessly, he reaches out for her; wordlessly he pulls her into his embrace, for there are no words, not now. Not at a moment like this. Words have failed them both; so many times, too many to count that at this moment, at this fragile impasse as she sobs his name and clings to his shirt Peter knows that there may never be enough words to communicate this feeling, to classify it and impersonalize it as she likes to do.

There are no words now, only actions, and reactions.

Smoothing his fingers through her hair and cradling her against his chest Peter waits. He has waited years for this moment, what feels like a lifetime spent on the outside of Olivia's life looking into where he cannot wait to be, where he needs to be.

He is not complete without her, and now he knows, she is not complete without him.

He is murmuring soft things into her hair and stroking her back and she clings to him like a drowning victim in a raging sea. Her grief will pull them both under if he doesn't do something, so he acts.

He kisses her to save her, to save himself.

She is desperate and needy under his hands clinging to him, unable to get close enough. Peter holds her against him and kisses her as she cries, cradling her against the warmth and safety of his frame, he envelopes her body and her senses like a familiar blanket.

Bringing Comfort, and safety, and a very different kind of desperate need.

Soon she is not just clinging to him, but tugging his shirt from his frame, and undoing the belt at his waist, and Peter consumed with the same desperate need mirrors her actions.

They practically rip the clothes from each other's bodies, piling them haphazardly on the floor in a forgotten tangle, and when there are no barriers between them just soft skin against hard muscle he enters her, his body and rhythm is rough and frantic, but his hands are soft against her skin, cupping her chin, kissing her face, locking her body against his almost uncomfortably tight.

He calls out her name as she lets herself go right there on the wood floor with the hard surface digging into her shoulder blades; her back sliding across it's cool surface with each thrust of his hips. But she doesn't care, because he's here, and he is real, and he didn't abandon her as she feared.

When her breathing is not so ragged, and their trembling has stilled he lifts her from the floor, and carries her to the bedroom.

Making love to her again, this time slower, less distressed and more sensual, taking his time to discover every nook and cranny that she has to offer; memorizing every gasp, and moan. Fascinated by the way her head tosses on the pillow, and her hair fans out around her head like a golden halo. The way her fingers feel against his heated skin and how her nails drag slowly and almost painfully down his spine as she comes under his ministrations again.

He captures every moment, every action in his mind to replay later when he is alone and cannot touch her like this.

In the early morning light Olivia awakens alone, the linen's tucked in around her and a note on her pillow.

"I love you –P"

Olivia hugs her pillow to her chest and inhales his scent, masculine and male and all Peter.

She doesn't cry, not this time.

He has written more than just his feelings on the note; he has written it on every inch of her skin tracing his conviction onto her with his hands, and mouth, branding his name across her with his fingertips.

"You're Mine, We belong together,"

It was a promise etched into her heart and soul that said "I'll Be Back."

Olivia smiled in the early morning light, Peter would be back, and she could wait.


End file.
